I've come to find,
there's two types of poets,

-ones that can't write a word,
and ones that are stuck writing-
in their childhood room

the most important person in our lives,
is not our parents,
not our friends, lover or our children,
not even yourself,
it's simply,
(ready for it?)

a person who you don't want to be

I pour beer
to my half full glass

the composed glassware
fulfills
to its utmost extent

second class beer can
sits in its shadow
refusing to empty
become obsolete
pressed
neglected
recycled
today

It amazes me
like Angkor Wat
standing
in morning aurora
the perfect view
I can't escape
(I haven't tried)
the nubility
of melancholic, doleful eves

And it amazes me
why beauty of sadness
appeals to this man
like magnets of my mind
were once mixed by their poles
could it be
the explanation
why its tough to navigate
and feel a bit lost in this world
my beautiful world

how you keep a secret,
when you run out of space to hide it?

and who do i tell, i don´t miss you,
only parts of we, and role you played,
in this crush extreme...

and why today, when years have passed,
does window present a morning twin,
of time long gone, that lost its bling

and who do i tell, i don´t miss you,
only parts of we, and role you played,
my sweetest muse

tell me, lovers of time,
has any, met amatorculist,
worse than bitterest wine,
who stains tablecloth finer than,
one they named as lost poet

So sings American Robin,

Seeks no time or place,

The idea, of great voice,

Well nothing truly, remains forever

I am surrounded,
by people close to death,
waiting to be reaped,
and a young woman sings,
a song, none of them knows,
and their dance, is long gone,
for this might be, their last song

I am,
my favourite writer, poet, storyteller,
my words, speak not in riddles,
they do not lie, I know them perfect,
my words, you are a true friend

Poets stand tall,
by *****-7 waterfall,
drown the miseries,
of mistress and Ms.,
heaven and hell,
in our storytelling

the day is here,
once again,
they drag themselves,
to boxes,
we call,
democracy,
a number here,
number there,
vote with voice,
that doesn't resonate,
their frequencies,
and we forget,
unkept promises,
Hope plays hide-n-seek

I've seen the world change,
not by numbers but words,
written by a drunk poet

you find a person,
and get caught,
in their broken life,
this is when,
you should turn away,
walk away,
with good consience,
and when you don't,
you are,
but a good person,
**** their sorrow,
to your already broken soul,
for there seems,
to be,
room for some more,
every last drop,
you ****,
and when they,
finally smile,
this is when,
they walk away,
wonder why,
and when,
you have changed,
cruelty,
of being,
but a good person

It starts with C,
we all know the abc,
then comes delta,
we forget all,
spike me, **** me, penetrate me,
and now nobody knows abc,
it's new letters, new syllables,
and I thought I go mad,
on poetry, philosophy, but no,
world has lost it's mind,
now,
we all go down together,
battling, mostly each other,
what has happened to the world,
to you, to me?
we used to know ourselves,
our sensibility, on shelves
will you be my friend?

To be truly heard, would create fear,
They would question their meaning,
Distort the balance of self-images,
A chaos of truth can't live within,
Ripping the paint away,
Underneath just an empty canvas

black and white rainbows,
everywhere now,
my colours I left there you see,
up for grabs, and I knew it,
but **** I miss red,
how it made my heart beat,
and ******* blue,
beautiful and rude,
and for you green,
no hard feelings,
all or nothing had to go

You cruel witch with a poisonous arrow,
Left me here to suffer,
Wonder where the antidotes are now,
And as I'm laying in the gutter,
Venom running in my body,
I cut my limbs off one by one,
As only heart remains, I cannot,
For it is not mine to cut,
My heart, is yours, cruel witch

What a time to be alive,

New day, mask on,

The eyes, they don't lie,

Is your character off/on?

hours pass by,
I guess days sometimes change,
months, I haven't known in years,
somewhere deep inside my mind,
words howl once again,
call me to write once more,
I don't want,
not now, not yet,
time shall come when its due,
paint pictures of a world so new,
a magical place,
we shall all be in a queue,
a world, not ruled by a few

would leaves never fall,
if wind kept its blew?
cold winter leaf, hmm...
perhaps it hates colour blue,
i know we humans do,
cycle of leaves seems wiser,
they know to bury themselves,
when winter's due,
but aren't they arrogant!?
to go out in such style,
like chameleon parachuting,
seriously, who does that...

Grand finale of days Opera,
nocturnal protagonist's fulfillment,
the reason mornings ****,
why all night we wanna ****,
why sleeping alone means bad luck,
I must not be alone here,
atmosphere of this thought,
gladly knows mere,
yet no more than mere facade of fuckups

Blinded by beauty I was,
and now, streets of Paris sting,
remind of life's cruelty alas,
turn passionless, in a time of spring,
so I dance, with jazzy steps,
from Arc de Triomphe to Champs-Elysees,
forever young, forever Immortal,
gods favourites dance around,
all the way to Place de la Concorde, here,
they all wish to be on line,
for quillotine that turns back time,
send them back for one more rhyme,
Kings, Lovers, Poets now cry,
their melancholy is stolen, oh why, o'why!!

Am I not brave
  enough to love,

Is my heart
  still in it's place to fall,

These questions
  haunt me and call to shore,

For I am the sea
  so rarely calm,

One drop of water
  in the shore,

Some moments later
  dry and gone

misunderstandings,
****! i hate misunderstandings..,
they have ruined...yes..,
like clouds ruin beautiful weather,
yes..like clouds..
they have ruined,
something that could have been beautiful,
our weather, you know..?
the one with the colours,
where colours make no justice,
for these colours were unseen,
collision, of two rainbows,
cause, i like blue, and you like orange,
hope one day i am blessed to see,
whatever they call blange

My gift of curse o,
No happier to choose,
To write melancholy,
This the gift,
The curse though,
To writ, with feeling,
I must be there deep, so deep o,
For art I'd dive deep, so deep o,
Give my life to live forever

Once carved to a window,

With finger, and breath of intimacy,

Comes alive, on a frosty day

I sat by,
the railway station,
young people,
with pride flags,
and costumes,
had fun,
minding their own business

I thought:
it's beautiful
perhaps there's hope,
after all,
buried,
somewhere deep

then curtain came down,
for no reason known,
duo of drunks,
spoiled their fun,
yet hope seemed alive,
this time,
it was the bully,
who ran

short time after,
a man,
cigarette on his lips,
that somebody else,
had already smoked,
drank an ice-cube,
from plastic bubble tea cup,
that somebody else,
had already consumed

and I thought:
hope truly sleeps,
perhaps too deep

Underneath iron dome,
lies truth of humanity,

between ask uncle elon and delusion,
lies truth of humanity,

somewhere in you, truth of humanity,
lies

I
you could be,
the most sweetest muse in the world,
one above,
the invented meaning of words,
oh you could be,
what few of us dare to dream,
a secret to so called comfort,
oh yes you could,
and the way i see,
your hazel brown eyes sing,
while your lips are sealed,
you preach and i listen,
a melody only few understands

II
double inhale stress relief,
ex wants me back in sheets,
while old crush, offered me a kiss,
one i, politely declined,
ask and i'll answer,
i barely know, whats going on,
for somewhere in the corner,
a lost lesbian, got jealous of me too,
you'd think it took time, no,
a day in life, under dim lights of a bar,
none of them knows,
yet i told them so,
theres a girl i like, one i'd never hurt,
one better, than stories to be made,
so let us be a week, a month or years,
know you can sleep,
with calmest of ears,
for every tear i'd make you weep,
would pour down twice from mine

III
thought it was the sirens,
that confused me,
see, i got lost here,
and its been too long,
but i remember the lighthouse,
and signals, it once sent my way,
and while the signing goes on,
i know i've been here before,
familiar song never changes,
it goes from ballad, to ballad

In the ruins of freedom,
there remains speechless,
where fear no longer exists,
it lives a life of everyday wanderer,
and we,
who have gathered around umbrella,
have forgotten the chaotic sound of,
how drops of evil rumble,
to the thin layer of canvas,
known as peace

If a battle within,
you dare not win,
then don't

There will be,
last time of times,
place where time won't turn back no more,
so until,
I reach this foreign land,
I give you choices,
for voices within, makes all kind of noices,
ones I enjoy, some hurtful decoy,
but my life,
too short to think twice,
too many times, you preached I'm nice,
so leash is on, chokes once more,
stings deeply in my souls core

there's life between the lines,
in paradise and hell, a life
between the vines,
next to drugs and sobriety,
between the lines

there's life between the lines,
beyond sea and land, a life
between the tides,
in love and hate,
between the signs,
in our life and death, a mile
between the sides

every morning i crave
to sleep tiny bit more
at complete peace
pure exit lens

and every night i wish
to stay awake little longer
at complete ease
pure existence

Female, male, novi-, pan-, trans-, cisgender,
questioning, agender, non-gender, alia! inter! apora!
    andro, bi!
chuckchi ne'uchika,      guevedoche,
  maverique,      winkte,
xanith...and approx 60 others.

When list is done, perhaps we can finally just be

as sun goes down and nocturnes play out,
thoughts, they calmly sail, I,
reach new age bacchanalia,
garden,
of modern day failure

in 'Cáfe Orbit's End' line,
we wait for, forbidden wine,
the sweet taste of freedom,
now echoes long lost kingdom

i fell from abyss,
to a wistful
post dinner rest,
laid down
next to an angel like brunette
for the first time i knew,
we gazed each other
much, like lovers do,
then softly
on her arms i
lowered my head
and kissed
her grown tummy
that carried life
is it mine? i asked
while
her new man
did the dishes,
(who was this simplicity, that she said to have chosen, for the pure easiness of it?)
and with whole
worlds unselfishness
she answered
how would it make you feel?
i stuttered...
she smiled
while warm safetiness
was injected
to my veins
by the pure
stinging self power,
she had just shown me,
right there
i knew,
i felt love,
i felt it...
for the first time
in my life,
a moment
that put aside
a lifelong doubts
if there was
such thing,
i had witnessed,
what so many
preach of,
what so many
die for,
and so so many,
write about,
i left the apartment
soon after, walked
down the stairs
and to my grief,
never
saw her since

by the heads
of the ******!!
should i ever
be offered
an answer to earthly secrets,
then atleast,
i have been given
my question:
who, was this woman
of my dreams,
and why love came knocking
past bedtime?

hello my child, and remember,
you are still and steady swamp,
in heart of a flourishing woodland,
you are mirror, to reflection of hatred

do not exceed your capacity, my child,
surface of time, divider of life

when you eutrophicate,
are hell and heaven divorced,
mirrors broken,
and images left on the wrong side,
will suffocate,
for who breathes hatred,
shall drown in love

so rest tight tonight sweet swamp,
your destiny is much to endure

From days past, a remembrance
has escaped,
It is with deepest of griefs,
I shall tell you the following:

where touch of cheeks,
or small kiss on a forehead would take place; a physical world,
is where following does not make its stand! no!

another starborn-lullabyworld, the mind! is his forest, undiscovered by earthly wanderers, place of magic, wonderful poems! earth saving ideas!
the greatest of lovestories!
here he lives and everything he touches, diamonds! oh how poor midas would be envious!

but it is with my deepest of condolances, I have to reveal such magic, for nothing in lullabies, exists in daylight

and touch of cheeks, only turns to sleepless nights

to bearers of suffering,

and their poems;

the sole witness they ever had